My Angel
by Elpheen
Summary: Probably G but PG just in case!A challenge response,one-shot,no sequel coz I'll end up not finishing it!Challenge guidelines are inside.If you think you can do better,follow the challenge and email me the fic!hope you enjoy,don't forget to RR!


**My Angel**

A/N: Short and sweet, don't read if you don't like clichés! Challenge response. Challenge rules:

Buffy meeting William, it doesn't matter how (in a dream, time travel etc). Spike can be in it too if you want

Buffy & Spike/William living happily ever after.

William writing a poem about Buffy (it doesn't have to be a good one)

Include at least 3 of the following:

The colour green

A novel by Jane Austen

The song 'Strong' by Velvet Chain

A line by Shakespeare

Buffy or Spike/William being injured and the other taking care of them

A slap round the face

A top hat

_AU: Elizabeth Anne Summers is daughter to a Lord and William works at the Summers' home as a messenger to look after his ill mother._

Elizabeth Summers sat on her swing in the sweeping grounds of her 'palace'; her father's mansion. She was reading _Pride and Prejudice_. Her father had insisted she read it for her tutor and she did so, glad of the release from reality. She turned her head at the sound of a man's voice.

'Miss Summers, please, no-one else is around. The boy your father hired is being tormented by his mother, she has a mental disability, I think.' It was Parker, the Butler. He was not authorised to help in the house, only to open doors and take coats.

Buffy closed her book, and gracefully got to her feet.

'Of course, Parker, where is the boy?' She hadn't met the 'messenger', only been informed of his arrival the morning previously.

'He is in the kitchen, recovering, I believe. Your father asked me to place him in your care if anything should happen to his mother. You may want to make up a bed in a spare room.'

Buffy was only half-listening as she walked as quickly as her dress and corset would allow her. When she entered the kitchen, her eyes fell on a man, not a boy, who must have been a year or so older than herself.

'William?'

William looked up as he heard his name, and his eyes fell on an angel. With blonde hair, softly curling over her shoulders and emerald green eyes, her dress a pale green with silver embroidery, he thought he must have passed out and was dreaming. He suddenly realised he was staring, and dropped his gaze. A servant like him didn't have the right to look at a rich girl in that way.

'William? Are you alright?' A line from his favourite play, _Romeo and Juliet_ drifted into his mind, _Oh speak again, bright angel_, echoing his own thoughts.

'Yes, Miss, I think I'll recover.' He tried to stand, but his vision clouded, and he stumbled, knocking his head against the table.

He awoke, what must have been a few hours later, to see his angel sitting beside him, her face worried. She took his hand and squeezed it gently.

'You've been out for so long; I was afraid we might lose you.'

William smiled weakly, overjoyed that this heavenly creature had showed an interest in him. He tried to sit up, but was pushed down with a firm hand on his shoulder.

'You need to rest. You're in my room, if you need me, just call out; I'm a light sleeper.'

William nodded to show his understanding, 'Thank you, Miss.'

She smiled, 'Please, call me Buffy. There's no need for formalities now, you're in my care.' She kissed his forehead gently, lingering a moment longer than necessary. She was attracted to this man, his hair flopping lazily over his face, his eyes a deep azure. She could feel herself getting lost in them, leaning forward ever so slowly. She caught herself just in time, and pulled back abruptly, breaking the silent tension in the room.

'I've left some writing paper by the bed, in case you want to write a letter to you mother, explaining where you are.'

He nodded; his mind a sea of feelings for this girl. He couldn't see how she could ever look at him as more than a servant, possibly a friend. He closed his eyes and drifted into a light slumber, filled with images of gold hair and emerald eyes.

_My sweetheart, my angel,_

_Pure like the dove,_

_You are my saviour,_

_You are my love._

_Your lingering smile,_

_Your selfless care,_

_Your wide green eyes,_

_Your golden hair._

_As I lie here,_

_Waiting for you,_

_I know it can't be,_

_I know it's not true._

William sighed as he lay down his pen. Writing his feelings on paper had helped, made him see it in black and white. He felt better now, able to move. He stood up, and though he felt slightly nauseous, he managed to walk to the door without waking Buffy. He looked back at her, gold hair spread over the pillows, a picture of innocence. He slipped out of the room, closing the door with a barely audible click.

When Buffy woke, the make-shift bed beside hers was empty. She closed her eyes, and wondered why he'd left. She noticed a slip of paper on the floor, and guessed it was a note to her, or his mother. She picked it up and read it, her eyes widening. She ran downstairs in her nightgown, hoping she might catch him before he left; the mansion was a large one, and hard to navigate if it was unfamiliar. Finding a door open when it should have been closed, she went through and followed small clues as to where he was.

William heard footsteps behind him, and as he realised there was only one door, he panicked; he shouldn't be here.

Buffy heard the shuffle of feet behind a door and opened it to find a scared and lost-looking William in the room.

'Hey,' she whispered, 'Why'd you run away like that?'

'Because…because…' William didn't know what to say.

'I found the poem, William.'

William blushed and looked at the floor. He might be besotted with her, but he lacked confidence around women; especially this one.

'It's beautiful. And what made you think it can't be?'

'Your rich, I'm poor, go figure.'

'William, do you believe in love at first sight?' When he was silent, she continued, 'I didn't…until I saw you.' She moved closer and brushed the stray lock of hair out of his eyes. 'Why does it have to matter what 'social status' we have? We're all human, made by God to live on this earth.'

'Y-you mean it?' William dared to raise his eyes to meet Buffy's. She laughed, a sweet, tinkling laugh, that warmed his heart.

She moved closer so their lips were just touching. 'Yes,' she murmured, before pressing her lips to his softly, encouragingly.

She reached out to switch on the gramophone, which began to play a soft, melodic piece, suiting the mood perfectly. She lifted her arms and placed them around his neck, while his hands sat on her waist. They swayed slowly in time to the music, happy to have found peace in a hectic world.


End file.
